please remind me again why.

The Brownlow event might not ring a bell, but in Australia, it is a huge media event where star footballers congregate together to receive awards. Interestingly, none of these are the highlights in the Australian media, instead it is the footballers' wives who are getting all the limelight, because they are beautiful and young creatures with great fashion sense. Krusla attended the red carpet event, dressed up in a mocking caricature of one's footballer wife, and received so much media attention (including the Herald Sun) that she didn't shy away from admitting that she even upstaged the footballers' wives - with her low cut mini-top, fake tan and five-inch stilettos.

Holly might be only 20 years old this year, but she worked for 8 months as a nanny in Germany. The family she worked for was extremely rich, both parents having their own companies and their own personal villa for family vacations. Just one problem: Their 3 young children hardly ever see their parents. 4, 7 and 11 years of age, they have grown up to be young, angry boys. So full of pent-up anger that one might easily mistake for an adolescent phrase, but really, lack of parental care and concern has gravely affected their emotional and mental well-being. The boys have a new nanny every year, which means 11 nannies in total thus far, which also means that every time they grow attach to their 'surrogate mother', she packs up her bags and leave. Raising a very interesting case of why the hell people procreate, Mandy said that she once worked as a nanny where the young child had a fractured bone in his skull all because a nanny dropped him on the floor when he was six-months-old. Finally, sick of all that drama, a teary-eyed Holly set her mind on leaving. When she made up her mind to leave, it wasn't only a job that she had chosen to abandon, but the hearts and minds of three crushed souls.

Chevron might look like the sweet and unassuming girl-next-door. But the 20-year-old does charity work on pilgrammes trips to India. During her last trip to India, she was invited to an event, which had nothing to do with beer or partying. Instead, it was an event where demons are exorcised from the bodies of the human beings of whom they reside in.

Just one hour.

Same time to yawn through a boring lecture on economics. Same time to sit through yet another half-session of the tutor droning on about the communications industry. And, yet, what I sat through, was one of the most interesting tutorials ever, with some of the most colourful human stories being told in vivid imagery and details.

We got into pairs for a mock interview session. Normally, I am very relaxed when interviewing people, but not this time round, with ten pairs of eyes around the room trained on me, my every word, my every gesture, my every slip-up. Turns out that the class was pretty impressed with my interviewing techniques. The leaning forward and pointing of toes towards my interviewee was partly out of nervousness, but was mistaken to be a show of interested concentration, which made the interviewee want to ramble on and divulge more revealing information. So, that was good, because I am a great pretender. The tutor even got so far as to observe our body language, freezing the moment of my crossed legs, and then bringing up the topic on whether females should cross their legs when interviewing someone. (Interestingly, at that very moment that subject was brought up, all the females in the room had their legs crossed.) Fyi, the answer is no, but our tutor advises us to get into any position we are comfortable with.

For every single bad thing that's been said about journalism, for every bad cloud of omen that hangs or negative thing that's been said about the profession like the recent negative publicity that 550 job cuts in the Australian journalism industry garnered, today's journalism class renewed my passion for the craft. In my tutor's words, which other job in the world gives you the privilege of reporting to work expecting something different everyday, affording you the license of getting people to share with you their most interesting life stories, for getting the taste of something so exciting and exhilarating?

"No matter what it takes, how long it takes you, let me tell you, it is worth it. It is worth every bit."

p.s./ I totally heart my tutor. She's the best journalism teacher ever.